Little Black Bird
by The Flying Spagetti Monster
Summary: “What is that song you sing, little bird? Why is it so sad? Are you lonely little bird? Is that why you’re sad? Are scared little bird? Where is your mama, little bird?” -for novel month-going for 50,000 words. Beware-creepy story-read & rate


_"How often do you stare out the window?"_

_"Every day."_

_"What do you see?"_

_"Nothing."_

**Chapter 1**

"Marley's an odd one, isn't she?"

"She doesn't talk much either, does she?"

People, people talk a lot, sometimes they talk way too much, way more than they should. Old crackly voices, high pitched squeals of small children, why is it I dislike them.

Old Ms. Pharma, crinkly skin, white and pale, she has a soft look in her eyes, but her strength wavers and she fails even the simplest of tasks. She talks too much. She listens too much too, as if every conversation is a conspiracy, containing codes and details. She must listen or she fails.

I walk an empty street, singing a tune that no one else knows. Thinking thoughts that must be wrong, must be bad, that's why I'm lonely.

_**Cauw Cauw Cauw**_

_"What is that song you sing, little bird? Why is it so sad?_

_Are you lonely little bird? Is that why you're sad?_

_Are scared little bird? Where is your mama, little bird?"_

There's a dead bird on the ground, behind my house, and across the creek. He's a little black bird, a baby crow. When did he die? Was he lonely? Did his mother try to save him, and did she fail? Or did he die alone, with no one wanting him, and with no one trying to help him? Did anyone cry when he died?

"…Marley...Marley?"

I stared out the window and watched as three black birds soared by in an arrow formation. One pulled away from the others and perched himself on the window's edge. His eyes were black, empty; it looked like he had none. The bird ruffled his feathers and I leaned closer.

"Where are your eyes, little bird?" I traced my fingers along the window and the bird's black holes looked at me. "Where are your friends, little bird? Did they leave you…or did you leave them?"

The bird opened his dark colored beak and cawed. "I can't hear you, little bird."

The bird squawked and took a peck at the window. The glass cracked, and I smiled, "are you angry, little bird?"

The bird spread out his wings and fell off the edge, he didn't fly back up. I stared at the crack in the glass as it spread; I put my fingers on the ridged edge and smiled. "Good night, Mr. Bird."

"Marley?" Ms. Pharma looked through her tilted glasses, perched on her nose, like a librarians. "Are you alright?"

"Do you read, Ms. Pharma?"

"Sometimes," she looked flushed, "you really need to pay attention during class." Her face, for a single moment, less than millisecond, melted into an expression of disdain and fear. But it returned, with me, only having seen it.

"Do I make you nervous Ms. Pharma? Do you fear me?"

Ms. Pharma's face became angry; her ears turned an odd red color. "Marley, I need you to be quiet and pay attention, or else you'll get detention."

"You rhyme when you speak, Ms. Pharma. But I'm not in the mood for poetry, Ms. Pharma." I looked back at the window, the crack was gone. "You scared the bird away, Ms. Pharma."

"There wasn't a bird, Ms. Jones." Ms. Pharma placed a heavy emphasis on the word bird, and a bit of spittle landed on my desk. "Stop hallucination and pay attention, and I don't care" She placed an equal amount of emphasis on care, "if you like poetry or not, this is English class, and you will, pay attention."

"You spit on me, Ms. Pharma."

"That's it!" Ms. Pharma shouted, "Detention!"

_I wonder if Ms. Pharma has ever hurt anyone. Does she wonder now, what might have happened, if she had acted differently. Does she see herself in me? Is that why she acts the way she does. Though hard to imagine, I know Ms. Pharma once must have been my age, I wonder what+_

_it was like for her. Did others hurt her?_

"Didn't you have detention today?"

"How would you know?"

Mary, small and meek, with long, straight hair in two pig tails, she never wants to go home. No one notices her excuses and resistance to go. Her mother, I've never seen her, her father neither. I wonder what their like, are they mean to their daughter? Do they drink? Do they sexually abuse her, or is it merely my imagination, but I think I saw a bruise on her arm. Mary never does anything dangerous, but she always seems to be hurt.

_Cry little bird. Tell the doctor your heart. Does it hurt here? Or does it hurt here? Why is you wing broken little bird? Did mama bird do it? Did papa bird do it, or did brother bird do it? Don't cry little bird, there's another way to heal the pain. Little bird, your wings cannot hurt, if you do not have them._

Mary looked down, the bus seemed to hardly shake, and I looked at her. "I'm in your English class; you shouldn't be so mean to Ms. Pharma."

"I don't want to be your friend Mary, I hate people like you."

Mary didn't breath. Was she scared I answered her unasked question? Or was she scared of loneliness, and I was the only one she thought could be her friend?

"I'm sorry." Mary said softly, her lip trembled and her eyes became glossy. "It's just, I think you're broken."

"What?"

"You see a bird, but the bird isn't there," Mary whispered. "You talk to ghosts too, I think your schizophrenic."

I smiled at Mary, "just because only I can see it, doesn't mean I'm broken. It could mean you're broken, and I think you know you are."

Mary looked at me, she looked different now, and she looked dead. Mary looked at the ground, "are you telling me that I've lost myself because I can't leave, I cannot die?"

I didn't answer, I didn't need too.

Mary stood.

"Goodbye, Mary."

Mary's face paled. She looked at me and her eyes widened, "wha…"

The bus jerked to a stop as a blue sed`an pulled in front of it.

Glass broke, there was a scream. Mary wasn't standing next to me anymore, I didn't see her, and I smiled. "Goodbye, little bird." I whispered as everyone hurried to the front of the bus, where the front window had shattered. Blood speckled the sharp edges, and Mary's dismembered arm hung from a large chunk of glass. "Did it hurt?"

Blaring flashing lights and loud sirens were met soon. Two girls went into shock, and a few people had thrown up. Police arrived soon after the ambulances to ensure that the public would not see the torn remains of Mary's body.

The police were unsure of whether to ask who she was, due to a hard time identifying her. I saw them talking over her.

"Her name is Mary."

A policeman looked at me, "what?"

"Her parents abuse her."

The policeman kneeled down to reach my eye level, "Are you a friend of hers?"

"No."

"Did she tell you her parents were hurting her?"

"No."

"Are you ok?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're crying."

I reached up and felt dampness around my eyes. "That's odd."

A bird landed on the car of the policeman I was talking too. I looked the policeman, "what is your name?"

He paused before responding, as if unsure of my intentions, "Dan."

"Do you have a family, Dan?"

He nodded

"Call them now."

"Why, I'll see them tonight."

"You love them don't you?"

"Well yes, but…"

"Tell them. Call them now."

The noise and movement around stopped and the light faded to darkness, but for some reason there was plenty of light, even in the darkness. Dan sat down in his car and pulled a cell phone out of the glove compartment. He looked at me and dialed. There was a silence as he held the phone to his ear, then he listened to the ringing, he kept looking at me with uncertainty, scared.

"Honey...Yeah I'm fine…I'm just calling to tell you I love you, tell the kids I love them too…ok…ill be careful…bye." Dan hung up the phone and looked at me. "Are you happy now?"

I nodded, "yes."

"Do you need a ride home?"

I looked at the bird on his car, it cawed and scraped the roof with its claws and spread its black wings. "Not from you."

I took the long route home so I could stop by the TV store on the way. They had the news channel on, as though it would attract more customers. The reporter was explaining the tragic death of a 13 year old girl, who died when a bus stopped abruptly flinging her through the windshield.

"The girl has been identified as by the name of Susan Florence of Mendelson Middle School, by a classmate. Her family is being investigated after the same classmate claimed her to be the product of family abuse." A woman with heavy makeup spoke loudly in front of the bus; Mary's body was already removed.

The scene turned to a man sitting in a news room, "That's interesting Susan, because a policeman, identified as Daniel Williams, on his way to the station from the accident was reportedly smashed by a car that ran a red light at the intersection of Dos Rd and Main St." The man pointed to the image of a destroyed police vehicle in the background. "The policeman died in the accident. The driver of the blue sedan that ran the red light, (he pointed to the wreckage) has yet to be identified, but he appears to have only suffered a mild concussion, and a bottle of hard liquor has been found in the car, recently opened."

I began walking away from the TVs when two guys sped past me on skateboards. A raven was perched on one of their shoulders, pecking at the boy's helmet.

I stopped and watched for a while as one of the boys danced dangerously through the street on his board, surprisingly, the one without the raven. The other boy stuck to the sidewalk, and didn't seem as experienced, taking the more basic tricks to practice.

I watched them both and began walking, a green car drove by, being driven by a long haired, teenager. A crow flew after it.

_Little black bird, why do you hate everyone? Why do you kill everyone? And why is it…that only I see you? Little black bird, are you angry, because you died?_

_But then why these people? Why these circumstances? What have these people done to make you so angry? Why are you so brutal, little black bird?_

I've become immune, unfeeling, having seen so many deaths I have learned attaching is suffering. "Oh little black bird," I closed my eyes against the sun's bright glare. "When is it my turn?"

_Black…bird…black…birds…are you my friends. Do you hate me black birds? Or do you need me?_


End file.
